


Wanting

by sailormomotaros



Category: Kamen Rider Decade
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7133735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailormomotaros/pseuds/sailormomotaros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a mistake, the first time. Desperation and loneliness had driven him to Tsukasa’s doorstep, on the heels of revelations from his own world. The kiss had been rough, and painfully awkward, Daiki trying to pry something from Tsukasa that Tsukasa tried and failed to give. Their kisses are still rough, still harsh at the edges. But they don’t truly hurt each other now, tempered by time and what they’ve endured and the two others beside them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanting

He didn’t mean to stay for too long. Slip into the photo studio, see if anyone was in, leave if it was empty, probably with a souvenir. But world-hopping is tiring business, and it isn’t his fault that Tsukasa’s bed is so damn comfortable. His dreams are sweet, at least. Tsukasa smiles down at him, he can feel Yuusuke warm at his side, Natsumi’s fingers threading through his hair. It all feels just about perfect. Daiki is disappointed when he rolls over into consciousness, gaze bleary and head feeling like it might be stuffed with cotton. “Sleep well?” The familiar drawl makes Daiki blink and push himself up instinctively, aware that he probably looks a little ridiculous now with his hair wild and clothes rumpled.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” Is the sleepy retort he gets out, ruined by a yawn punctuating it. Tsukasa merely smirks, the expression equal parts infuriating and attractive on his features, and gives an effortless shrug.

“This is my room, you know,” he points out, arching an eyebrow.

“Yuusuke said I should feel free to use this room any time I like.” Daiki grins tiredly, eyes sparkling. He stifles another yawn as he pushes himself to his feet and stretches languidly. “But I’ll just be on my way in a second, got things to do, after all.”

“Not staying? You must have some great treasure to go after.” At the break in Tsukasa’s short silence Daiki pauses, and it’s his turn to watch Tsukasa. “Everyone is gone for the weekend, it’s pretty quiet here,” is all he adds before he turns, leaving the room. Daiki stares after him, blinking. Tsukasa always is rather roundabout when it comes to things like inviting someone to stay the night. He does wish that Tsukasa would be a little more straightforward about such things, though. A little ‘Kaitou, won’t you please stay the night?’ would be flattering. He lingers, considering hopping out the window and taking off, but ultimately he smoothes his clothes out and heads for the door. When Daiki leaves the bedroom, Tsukasa is puttering around the kitchen, and the thief pauses, looking at his back and slowly leaning against the doorway.

It had been a mistake, the first time. Desperation and loneliness had driven him to Tsukasa’s doorstep, on the heels of revelations from his own world. The kiss had been rough, and painfully awkward, Daiki trying to pry something from Tsukasa that Tsukasa tried and failed to give.Their kisses are still rough, still harsh at the edges. But they don’t truly hurt each other now, tempered by time and what they’ve endured and the two others beside them. It’s been anything but smooth between them, for as long as Daiki can remember. It's getting better, though. Tsukasa’s tried to tell him before, tried to broach the subject of their feelings, but before he can get the words out, Daiki is telling him not to, or distracting him with another one of their harsh, nipping kisses. Daiki always dances away from it, from a serious expression and a soft, gentle hand in his. He lays awake at night later and tries to shape the words ‘I love you, Daiki’ into Tsukasa’s mouth.

“What are you making?” He finally speaks to Tsukasa’s back, crossing his arms. Tsukasa doesn’t pause, whatever he’s doing, and his response is a highly eloquent “Dinner.” Daiki moves closer, looks over his shoulder, only to see an attempt at ramen by the man. “You have to stir that, you know,” the thief says absently, slipping his hands over Tsukasa’s to nudge his hands into action. The taller man gives a huff, but doesn't shove him away, letting Daiki’s hands guide his motions. Daiki keeps his eyes down, for a moment, but when he looks up, his chin neatly tucked over Tsukasa's shoulder, he finds warm lips meeting his, only briefly before Tsukasa pulls away, his eyes not leaving Daiki.

“Maybe you should take over,” he murmurs, and Daiki laughs, glancing away to try and hold back the flush in his cheeks. It’s still surreal, the man in his arms. Something he never thought he’d have, really. Not with how Daiki had run so many times. With how Tsukasa looked at Natsumi, at Yuusuke, in a way that made the thief painfully jealous. The jealousy doesn’t hang around anymore. It’s hard for it to, when the people he once secretly envied now make his chest feel just as warm and tight and very vulnerable as Tsukasa makes him feel.

They are his most prized treasures. Their affection something so soft and precious, tucked away in his heart, and he wouldn’t give it up for any world.

There are a lot of things they don’t talk about. Not often, at least. Tsukasa has asked about his past before. About the gaps that he can’t quite fill in, about their time together. Daiki’s cooperation changes according to his mood. It doesn’t mean that they’ve really gotten anywhere in the probably eventual and long, long discussion of their past together.

“Were you upset, that I forgot?” The dishes have been washed, and they’re sitting on the couch. The question is simple, no malice coloring Tsukasa’s tone as he tips his head to the side, staring at Daiki. The thief only gives a slight grin, shaking his head.

“Why would I be upset?”

It’s only a moment before Tsukasa’s closed the distance between them, and he takes Daiki’s hand, lifting it to look at it thoughtfully. “You want to be important to me,” he says casually. “You want me to pay attention to you. … You kissed me, before you left, the first time. Do you remember? It was the first time I’d ever been kissed, you know.”

“Something else I stole from you,” Daiki says, cursing the slight weakness in his voice. “You looked like I’d just pulled a rabbit out of thin air.” The feeling of the young leader’s lips on his and the heat of his body had been so sweet, he hadn’t wanted to leave. But it was flight or death, and Daiki valued his life just enough to not walk into the arms of death just yet. And again, Tsukasa’s warmth is here, and Daiki can still feel the man’s lips pressing softly against his. This Tsukasa is warmer, overall. He’s still abrasive, and arrogant, but his gaze is softer, kinder, infinitely more than the Tsukasa Daiki knew.  
Tsukasa raises Daiki’s hand to his mouth suddenly, still watching Daiki carefully, quietly, and his lips brush over the back of his hand gently. “What do you want, Kaitou?” The question takes Daiki off-guard, and he looks at the other man, nearly pulling his hand from his grip.

“Lots of things,” Daiki answers easily, but his breath is caught in his throat, Tsukasa too close, his gaze too gentle.

“What do you want from me?” Tsukasa’s tone is neutral, questing. Daiki wishes that he would stop looking at him like that, but at the same time he never wants him to stop.

“Lots of things.”

“Like what?” Tsukasa’s gaze is boring into him, and Daiki’s eyes are fixed firmly on the floor.

“... I want you… to want me. Among, like I said, lots of other things.” The words sound more vulnerable than he wanted them to, but they’re hanging in the air between them now, and he can’t take them back. He flashes a grin at the floor, voice straining for light and joking. Tsukasa’s eyes aren’t leaving him, he can see out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, is that all?” Daiki turns back to glare, to snap back a retort at Tsukasa’s bored-sounding response, and he’s met with a kiss. Tsukasa pushes him back against the arm of the couch insistently, mouth warm and demanding and distracting against his. Daiki is frozen only a moment before he responds enthusiastically, sliding his arms around Tsukasa’s shoulders and pulling him in closer.

His mind is pleasantly dizzy when the taller rider finally pulls away, a heavy weight atop him now. But when he opens his eyes, Tsukasa is still close. Still staring at him with that strange, tender look. He swallows hard, wetting his lips before he speaks again, voice hoarse. “Do you just feel sorry for me?"

Tsukasa huffs indignantly at the question. “No,” he says matter-of-factly. He shifts, propping himself up enough to look at Daiki properly, and his gaze is very serious again. “I do want you, if I didn’t want you do you really think I would do all this?” He has a point. When Daiki huffs and tries to smile, opens his mouth to shrug off the sudden, vulnerable question, Tsukasa continues, pressed warm and comfortable against the thief. “It’s fine, to be upset that I forgot. But it isn’t something you have to dwell on anymore. I’m right here, and I want you, and…” He trails off, baiting the other man to look back at him. It works, Daiki glancing back at him, and Tsukasa gives a pleased smirk. “And I love you. Just so you know.” He leans in to plant a short, sweet kiss on Daiki’s lips before he can reply, then he’s rolling off him and pushing himself up from the couch.

Daiki stares up at the ceiling for a good long time as Tsukasa wanders away, rambling on about wanting to go get more groceries or something. He tries to process the words. It sounded… pretty much exactly how he expected. Shockingly haughty for expressing love to another person. Entirely too pleased with himself. Warm. He hadn’t wanted to hope for warm, for soft and sincere, but having heard it now he realizes how badly he wanted it.

The words feel like a treasure. His treasure. 

He feels extraordinarily safe and at peace here, with Tsukasa’s voice a low ramble in the background and the couch so familiar underneath him. He could sneak out the door right now, a part of him considers it, to escape from the strangely vulnerable discussion and feelings. But Daiki merely closes his eyes and fights a smile, and he dares to let himself stay and savor.


End file.
